


The Fortunes of Furry Friends

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Food Porn, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Eos is filled with as many fantastic creatures as it is delicious food. Every region has its legends, and a special dish to go with it. Three ships, three critters, three dishes; a mini-series of taste-testing delights!Part 1: Ignis/Noctis | Part 2: Nyx/Noctis | Part 3: Ravus/Noctis





	1. Garulessa Dumplings

**Author's Note:**

> Monthly food fluff challenge with [Aithilin!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the passing of the lunar New Year, Ignis prepares some good luck dumplings to share with Noct.

“You doing alright there, Specs?”

“I’m fine. Arms are just a tad sore.”

Ignis braced a hand against his shoulder and rolled it out, working the aching muscles. He didn’t have time for locked joints tonight. There was still much to do, much more pressing matters he needed to focus on than his over-worked arms. Though, it was rather difficult to focus on any of those pressing matters with Noct’s hands pressing against his flesh.

“Noct, I’m fine,” he tried to insist. “As much as I appreciate…”

“Specs. Shush. Let me take care of you for a minute.”

Now was hardly the time for that. And hardly the place. If it was just the two of them, locked up safe in the privacy of their apartment, Ignis would welcome Noct’s amateur efforts at a massage after a long day of kneading dough for the evening’s celebratory dish. Even among friends, Ignis wasn’t often inclined towards public displays of affection. Especially with the Crown Prince, an anxiety he was still working on demolishing, given the widespread acceptance of their relationship.

He worked on taming that anxiety now, taking a deep breath and trying to let himself relent to Noct’s well-meaning ministrations. Where was the harm? After all, no one was paying them any mind.

Not with the Citadel courtyard replete with ruffled, golden banners and navy blue pennant flags sporting the tusked silhouettes of the New Year’s mascot. Round, yellow lanterns were strung across the courtyard, netted between the lampposts. Prints and masks and plush animals from the souvenir stalls were all marched across the toes of the Citadel, a whole herd of flaxen-furred garulessa charging around on the shoulders of excited children.

Honoring the creatures of Eos as representatives of the lunar cycle was an ancient tradition. Before the Astrals laid claim to the land and demanded tribute, it was the figures of nature which heralded the shift from one year to the next. Over the past hundred years or so, the Citadel had started setting examples for the historical customs by opening the courtyard to the public for an evening of festive food and fireworks.

Noctis and Ignis had set up on the stairs to the towers, behind the velvet ropes cordoning off the areas restricted from public use. Food was steaming over Gladio’s borrowed grill, Ignis having carefully set up the appropriate, portable pots for the snack he’d wrecked his arms over earlier in the day.

“Those smell like they’re done,” Noctis said, the nursing rolls of his palms pausing to pat Ignis’s shoulders.

Ignis rolled his eyes at his impatience, though smiled at Noct’s nose for a finished dish. He lifted the lid off the steamer, giving the handmade purses of dumpling dough a quick glance. The smell of kettier ginger and allural shallots bloomed from the released steam, perfuming ground garulessa steak folded within the dough. Pleased with the presentation of the steamed buns swelling on the rack – and feeling as though the aches in his arms had been worth all the kneading – Ignis plucked the dumplings onto a plate with a pair of chopsticks.

Dumplings were said to bring good fortune on the eve of the New Year, and while he wasn’t sure the honorary animal would appreciate being devoured for luck, Ignis wasn’t about to argue with a thousand-year-old tradition. Especially not when Noct’s eyes lit up as he snatched his offering and set the plate on his lap.

“They’ll be hot,” Ignis warned him.

It fell on deaf ears though, as the evening’s fireworks began cracking open balls of golden stars above the Citadel. Noctis pawed at the air between him and Ignis, gesturing for him to sit down as he sunk a dumpling in soy sauce. Ignis took his hand as he sat down, squeezing it between the arms of their fold-out chairs as the brilliant colors of New Year’s rocketed above the festival.

They watched the blues and yellows to represent garulessa fur brighten the streamers below for a while, listening to the kids in attendance squeal with delight and raise their plush prizes towards the cascade of stars. Between the blasts, Noctis raised a dumpling to Ignis, in a facsimile of a toast.

“Happy New Year, Specs!” he shouted over the loud claps in the sky.

Ignis tipped one of his dumplings back to Noct, and they each took a bite. He didn’t know if there was any truth to the good luck magic of dumplings on New Year’s, but between the flavorful pocket of meat bursting on his tongue, and Noct’s warm hand in his, he felt better about the coming year already.

And, with one bite of his possibly magic dumplings, and a soft squeeze of Noct’s hand, Ignis’s arms didn’t feel quite as sore as they had before.


	2. Folktale Skewers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyx tells Noct the tale of Galahd's most famous coeurl, and cooks up some skewers to satisfy its appetite.

“Does it have a name?”

Nyx glanced up from his mortar and pestle. Noctis stared up at the stony sneer of the coeurl in abject fascination, arms crossed loosely across his chest as he milled over the legends Nyx had filled his head with.

“That’s part of the mystique,” Nyx told him, with a secretive smile. “We call it ‘the Nameless One.’ Tourists gave it the title ‘Ghost of Galahd.’ People outside of the islands just think it’s a fable to pull in more revenue. But those of us who were born here know better than to forget who keeps all the critters from breaking through our fences and stealing our crops.”

He was knuckle deep in the aromatic, orange sauce for the campfire skewers. He hadn’t cooked this far outside of his mother’s kitchen since he was a kid – and even then, it was a rare adventure. It took a lot of planning, and a lot of supplies hefted along the trails, but for a rustic, Galahdian grill-out fit for a visiting prince, Nyx was willing to make the trek.

The jungle surrounded them on all sides in rich layers of green, the air a cool, damp canopy from the midsummer heat. Noctis stood with his back to the campfire, staring up at the great, stone statue of Galahd’s most famous folk-tale which marked patch of forest as safe for travelers to stay by. Weathered, white stone, crawling with a thin pelt of moss, snarled out from the high ferns to watch over their feast. The carved jaws of the coeurl rested open, expectant and impatient for Nyx to finish with his offering.

Resting beneath the Nameless One’s protection demanded a certain level of courtesy. The coeurl was a proud, vicious feline, merciless towards those that disrespected it. Which was why Nyx deftly drenched the daggerquil breasts in semur sauce, and promptly pierced the meat onto the skewers.

“Those teeth weren’t made for cutting veggies,” Nyx had explained to Noctis earlier. “If you want to stay on this carnivore’s good side, you better bring it meat.”

It was the smell that was said to please the god-like figure. Once the skewers were set over the rack of the campfire, and the flames ignited the flavors of the sauce, travelers were safe to dine under the gaze of their guardian. The fresh, savory scent of ginger blasted up from the skewers, with the smoky, spicy call of his mother’s “secret” blend in the sauce.

Noctis turned from admiring the statue to salivate over the make-shift grill, sitting cross-legged in the lush grass as he watched Nyx work. He nodded at the fold out table, where all Nyx’s tools for outdoor cooking lay in disarray.

“How do you plan on cleaning all of that?” he teased.

“I’m sure you’ll help me figure out. Unless you want the Nameless One to come steal you into the jungle, never to be heard from again.”

“The Nameless One’s going to have a very angry, very squeaky fox spirit biting off its tail if it does.”

Nyx chuckled, turning the ends of the skewers to get an even char. As fearsome as Galahd’s legendary coeurl might be, he pitied the poor creature should it ever befall the wrath of Carbuncle in a battle for Noct’s soul.

The smoke from the grill curled up to fill the carved nostrils of the statue as the meat finished cooking. Nyx sat down next to Noct, endeared by the dart of his tongue at the corner of his lips as he eyed the dripping, sauce-soaked meat. Noctis had his mouth open around the skewer, ready to bite in, before abruptly pulling back.

“Wait. You don’t have to say a prayer or anything?”

Nyx suppressed a laugh, not wanting to make light of Noct’s curiosity. “Nah. The gods and ghosts of Galahd are more the ‘strong and silent’ types. Don’t have to kiss their feet with a lot of pomp and circumstance to please them. Like any good Galahdian, cook ‘em up their favorites, and your set for a season.”

Nyx raised his skewer like a sword being vowed to an ancient king at the coeurl statue. Noctis shook his head and smiled. He didn’t chance the Nameless One’s scorn with a mock salute. After all, there was always a grain of truth in every story.

True to the legend, in the middle of the jungle, where hundreds of wild predators leered from the grasses, eager to devour a wandering traveler, Noct and Nyx weren’t accosted by a single one. Not under the silent roar of the Nameless One.


	3. Unicorn Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravus shares a rare Tenebraen delicacy, and an ancient story to go with it.

“It’s not poisoned.”

Noctis glanced up at Ravus, narrowing his eyes at the unreadable expression across his stoic face. He _wanted_ to believe him, because the Tenebraean treat looked too good not to try, but he wasn’t about to be taken for a fool and vindicate a decade’s worth of Ravus’s antagonism by meeting his demise to a deadly dessert.

Ravus huffed out a sigh, rolling his eyes in the most dignified – and thereby pretentious – way possible, then reached across the table to take one of the gelatinous squares in hand. It was like no dessert Noctis had ever seen before, cut into squares like a brownie with the translucent and playful texture of gelatin. It was a pale gold color, and each block was stenciled with a sugar silhouette of the Fleuret’s coat of arms: the rearing, winged unicorn.

Ravus raised the treat between them, staring pointedly at Noctis and biting off a corner without breaking eye contact. He chewed – slowly, to kill his sweet tooth with the suspense – and swallowed. Noctis waited a moment, squinting at him like he expected him to spontaneously combust. When he didn’t, and instead lived to take another bite of the sweet, Noctis let his shoulders relax, and tentatively took a square for himself.

It was a chewy texture, like gummy candy, tasting floral and citrusy. Light and sweet, not something Noctis expected would suit the tastes of the sour Nilfheim Commander across from him.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had anything like this back home,” Noctis said – he didn’t want to flatter Ravus _too_ much.

He knew he’d left him an opening to say something along the lines of how uncultured they were over in Lucis, but rather than seize on the opportunity, Ravus just looked at the plate of treats. Noctis paused as he chewed, shocked to recognize a look of wistfulness in his host’s eyes.

“It’s a specialty of Tenebrae. Not many chefs know how to make it. But it’s been a favorite of the Fleuret family for generations. It’s made in honor of our house’s guardian.” He tapped the sugar stencil of his square – comically headless from the bites he’d taken. “Legend has it that the Fleurets got their start on the back of this particular steed. It wasn’t just the Oracle that made our family name famous.”

Now that Noctis looked at the treat, the color did resemble the golden glow of Luna’s magic. He felt a sharp pang of guilt for assuming the food was poisoned. It sounded like it was a rare indulgence these days, one that was not hastily shared with strangers.

“What’s it called?”

Ravus scowled. “The Tears of Tenebrae. Not the most appetizing title for a children’s dessert.”

Noctis bit back a laugh, not wanting to insult him. Ravus had been slow to open up to him, and harder to warm himself to. But he was starting to learn how he worked, what made him tick, his wants and desires. He liked to be listened to, much like Noct did. They didn’t talk much, because when they did, they wanted it to matter. And Ravus’s tale about the Fleurets’ patron steed must have been important.

“Maybe they’re tears of joy,” Noctis teased, lightly, taking another bite to better prove his point. “Because these are just about good enough to cry over.”

Ravus scrutinized him, searching for malice behind his words. But Noctis had no intentions of making himself an enemy – not when he was fed with delicious desserts. Ravus’s frosty glare melted just a little bit when he realized it was safe.

“Maybe there’s some unicorn magic in these still,” he mumbled. “You’re becoming less intolerable as time goes on.”

“Sure,” Noctis said, covering a smile with another bite. “Must be magic.”


End file.
